Road to New Vegas
by Sir Starlll
Summary: After faking his own death, Scypris had to leave the Capital Wasteland. He has to travel through the country to the one place left on this planet where he won't be recognized: New Vegas. A tribute to the upcoming new Fallout game. Some MaleVaultiexRielly
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes:

Starlll: Why is it that whenever I start a new story, I get this terrible feeling that these first few lines are VITAL to the reader? I mean, I understand the need to hook the reader into the story very quickly, but not why it's so important that I hook you guys in with the author's notes? Aw well, who knows?

Scypris: (Clears throat loudly)

Starlll: Oh, right, anyway, just a few things you should know before reading this: first off, this is actually the sequel to another story I'm PLANNING on writing. But I haven't written it yet. So I'll probably give make a few references to things that happened in the past. This is your only warning that if you don't understand something (like WHY Scypris did what he did in this chapter), then it'll all be explained in the prequel. WAIT! Don't you hit that back button! Please, keep reading! Okay, you're still reading. Thank you. Anyway, this story (it won't be THAT long, but it won't be a one-shot, either) is a tribute to the upcoming Fallout: New Vegas game. Enjoy!

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Prologue:

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Scypris felt himself flung into the air like a mini nuke from a Fat Man. The sheer force of the explosion managed to throw him nearly six feet into the air, even at the distance he was. Shrapnel from random objects and glass tore through his clothes and into his skin like bullets through a cloth.

Scypris landed on his arm, probably dislocating it. He also felt a crunching sound somewhere in his spine, but it didn't hurt. Yet. Scypris had landed on the stairs going down into the Museum of History, or, as it is known to residents of the Capital Wasteland, the Underworld, home of the ghouls.

Scypris felt himself let out a groan from the bowels of his stomach. _Shit. _He thought. _Here comes the pain._ What did he just do? He had murdered Ahzrukhal the bar owner from the Ninth Circle, Charon (Ahzrukhal's bodyguard, though it was less of murder and more of self defense), and three patrons of the bar. All of this was done with his 10mm pistol, his weapon of choice.

When everybody in the room was dead, and Scypris was sure nobody was about to burst in, he stole the key off of Ahzrukhal's dead body and cleaned out the safe of whatever caps were inside. Caps was all he could afford to take, as he couldn't let anything slow himself down. Scypris had about two minutes before HE broke through the bathroom door and the small barricade he made.

Scypris grabbed an empty cooler and shoved as much alcohol as he could into it. He shot down the hinges of a closet (people could be so stupid. They would go through all the trouble of making bullet-proof locks when you could take down the hinges just as easily). He nodded when he saw what was inside of it: Charon's armaments supplies.  
Scypris didn't bother taking ammo or stimpacks. He probably only had one minute left before HE got out. He only took exactly what he needed now. It didn't matter if there was a million caps in there, he only had time for what he needed. Scypris swore to himself for wasting a minute of his precious two on three hundred caps. Scypris pulled out a box full of grenades and mines, and stacked them on top of the alcohol.

Scypris hefted both of the boxes out of the door to the Ninth Circle and into the main room of the Underworld. Some ghouls looked at him strangely for how rushed he was, but didn't bother asking why. He put down the boxes next to the statue of some god of death or whatever the hell it was and began running. Scypris ran out of the door into the main hall. He pulled a grenade out of his pocket.

Scypris pulled out the pin and, adrenaline rushing through his body like bullets through the barrel of a gun, threw it. He didn't even bother checking to see how far it went, he just started running again.

He could hear the ghouls screaming. His friends roaring in mortal terror as they tried to get out of the range of the grenade.

The grenade made it all the way from the main hall to the room with the boxes of alcohol and explosives, then exploded. It caused a chain reaction, igniting the other explosives and lighting the alcohol. By then, Scypris had made it out of the door to the outside. The force of the impact shoved him into the air and he landed on the steps.

_Shit._ He thought. _Here comes the pain._

He couldn't move an inch. He managed to turn his one good eye (his other eye was another story for another time) to the underworld. The explosion had no doubt knocked out the supports of the building, as it was collapsing behind him. There was a chance that some had survived the explosion and the roof falling down around them, but the survivors would be pinned down by the massive amounts of rubble, and starve to death.

It was dawning on Scypris what he had just done. He had completely destroyed his only sanctuary on this world. The one place where his life wouldn't catch up to him. Gone.

Scypris felt blood pour out of him. He would give every cap he owned in the world for a stimpack. Hell, he would settle for a blood pack. Hell, Scypris would even settle for a cold beer.

\

It was a miracle that he survived through the night. The Brotherhood of Steel had cleared out the trenches almost a week ago, so his only danger was one of them discovering him while on patrol. But, considering that he had just made a major building collapse, they would _probably_ notice him. So, like I just said, it was a miracle that Scypris had lived long enough to see daylight.

But, unfortunately for humanity, Scypris did.

Maybe I should explain a few things. First off, Scypris is a raider. He had been turned nearly a year ago, shortly after he left Vault 101. He managed to adapt quickly, but at the cost of many human lives. He was about half a head shorter than most people, which many consider to not be intimidating. But his left eye more than made up for it. His right eye was normal (by standards of the Capital Wasteland), but his left eye was completely yellow. Not just the iris, but the whites and even the pupil was a murky yellow. Scypris often woke up in the middle of the night, clutching that eye in pain. But, once again, how it became that way is another story, for another time.

Second, Scypris was decided to be one of the most dangerous criminals on the East Coast, and that's saying something. Clad in combat armor (though he separated some of the plates so he could move easier), Scypris was a man to fear. He felt no sorrow for taking human lives, unless he personally knew the one he killed. In which he felt _some_ remorse, but nothing that a plate of Brahmin steak and some whiskey couldn't solve.

Scypris woke up halfway through the day, clutching at his gut. He managed to craned his head to see what was wrong. Some of the glass and metal shrapnel was lodged into his skin, in between the plates he had separated so he could run easier. Scypris slowly slid his hand over to the area with the shards, and slowly pulled them out with his fingers. Scypris fumbled through his pockets, strength running through his arms again. He managed to find his 10mm pistol, and stimpack hidden in his hoister.

Scypris administered the stimpack to his stomach, the unknown medicine coursing through his body. He slowly rolled onto his stomach when the stimpack was empties, and crawled to the top of the stairs. There was still some glass in his legs, but he could pull that out later. For now, he had to get the hell out of there.

"I have to go home." Scypris said, talking just to keep his spirit up. Then he realized: what home? No, he couldn't go home. He never could go home. Hell, he didn't even want to anymore.

What would happen? There would just be another chase and more killing. Heck, Scypris knew that before the week was over, he would be in this same exact situation, laying nearly dead in a ditch, praying some miracle would happen. No more. He wouldn't go home.

But then where would he go? And I bet somebody would just track him down anyway.

Scypris knew what he had to do. He slowly curled his fingers around his reflective sunglasses. The sunglasses hid his yellow eye. It gave him away like a siren in public places. Scypris took off his sunglasses. He weakly threw them into the rubble that used to be the Underworld.

As far as the world knew, Scypris Colt was dead.

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Starlll: Just so you know, this isn't what I'm used to writing. Too little dialogue, too much narrative. Anyway, PLEASE review. Even if you don't have an actual account. Please review. Oh, and if you point out a spelling/grammatical error, please tell me so I can make fun of myself. That is all. STARLLL OUT! (Mini nuke explosion behind him)


	2. Take me to Dukov's Place

Author's Notes:

Starlll: Holy crap, you're still reading this? Yes! Okay, lemme see, (opens up his Fallout 3 map of the Capital wasteland) uh-huh... uh-huh... okay! Here we go!

Scypris: Do you REALLY have a map of the wasteland? My god, you're addicted to that game, aren't you.

Starlll: Used to be. Then my brother's 360 broke. IT WAS LIKE GOING ON COLD TURKEY, MAN! (Starts shaking Scypris by the shoulders) NOW I HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL THE RELEASE OF NEW VEGAS TO DOWNLOAD IT ON MY COMPUTER BEFORE I CAN GET MY FALLOUT ON! TWO WHOLE MONTHS, MAN!

Scypris: (Pulls out gun and shoots Starlll away) Get off of me!

Starlll: (Falls to the ground, clutching his bullet holes) OW! (Deep breaths, then slowly gets up) Whew. Thanks, man. I needed that. Okay, for those of you who don't understand the chapter's title, the song 'Take me to Duke's Place' was really popular a long time ago. It was also probably the inspiration for Dukov's name, and the name of his his house (Dukov's place).

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Chapter 1: Take me to Dukov's Place!

/

Scypris woke up again at around 5:00 PM. He heard footsteps. He clutched his gun.

"Come on, keep moving. We're on patrol." Said the a man, probably in his twenties with light armor.

_Okay, it's not a Brotherhood of Steel Knight or Paladin, because they don't wear light armor. So, it's either a Talon Mercenary, or a Brotherhood Recruit. It's a 50-50 shot._

Scypris crawled behind a trash bin, getting out his pistol. That was the only weapon he had left.

"Look, we could probably just ditch out into some corner and take a smoke." A second one suggested. Definitely not Talon. No, Talon recruits don't see light for the first month of initiation. Then they take their clothes leaving them completely naked in the middle of the wasteland with only a knife and a shotgun with 10 shells in it. Scypris cocked his gun, aiming for where their heads would be in a moment.

"I dunno, Tom. Lyons would know. He always knows when we lie."

Scypris nodded luckily. They had probably only been members for about a month. They still believed that their superiors were god-figures.

"Hey, it's easy to lie." Tom said, turning the corner. "All you have to do is look them in the eye and-"

B

_A

_N

_G!

Scypris shot Tom between the eyes, then the other one just below the lip, embedding it into his brain. Neither of them had a chance to raise their guns. Scypris limped over to them, using every muscle in his body to support himself. He frisked the two dead bodies and found some guns and ammo (nothing he could carry in his current condition, though), dog tags (which he cut off with his combat knife and threw them into the dumpster), and one stimpack on each of them. Scypris injected the stimpacks immediately, one to his hip (which then flowed through both legs), and the other to his upper chest.

Scypris felt strength flow through his limbs, and began walking again. He had a bit of a limp, but he knew from experience that it would fade in a day or two. He looked at his situation again. Right in front of him was two suits of moderately used recon armor. Scypris removed the better-looking suit, and put it on. He bent his limbs a few times, loosening them. He slowly pulled the two bodies into the dumpster, and sat against it.

Scypris closed his eyes, letting his body heal.

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Scypris got up the next day, around morning. He stood up, feeling fine. In fact, in spite of a slight soreness and a limp on his left leg, he felt nothing wrong with him.

Scypris slowly began walking. He knew had had to get out of there NOW. The Brotherhood of Steel would start searching for those two missing initiates, and the collapsed Underworld behind him was a dead marker.

He had to think. What was the one place in the DC ruins where nobody would look... where even if they thought of it, they wouldn't go to... Dukov's Place. Scypris nodded. Old Dukey wouldn't mind.

The dead never cared what you do to them.

/

Scypris made it into the building, using an elongated assault rifle as a walking stick. He opened the doors with some difficulty and stepped inside. Something was off, though. It smelled different. It took him two seconds to realize what was wrong: he never did anything about the dead bodies after he killed them. He just left them where they were shot; in a chair; on the stairs; and on the pool table which once was covered in pre-war cash and beer.

Scypris sighed, wishing he had thought ahead to throw the dead bodies outside after he killed them. He plugged his nose with bullets and headed upstairs to the bedroom, stepping around the dead body of... what's her name again? Cherry?

Scypris could care less about remembering her name, he just walked up. He glanced at the giant hanging lights in the shape of two people, rolled his eyes at how disturbed Dukov used to be, and did something mindless enough to take his mind off the fact that he just left everybody behind: Target practice.

Scypris squeezed off two shots onto two empty vodka bottles (He never bothered cleaning up all of Dukov's messes, just the ones that involved him getting paid handsomely for) on the other side of the room, which had been stacked on a chair. He shot a third one off of one of the skylights, causing glass to rain down (though not enough to affect him), and Scypris shot a fourth bottle off the top of Dukov's head.

Scypris may have been a raider, but he was completely sane, and not a cannibal. He didn't enjoy playing with dead bodies, but that didn't mean that he was disturbed by them, either. What seemed liked centuries ago, a man named Vance taught him how to eat dead humans. Or, at least, to drink their blood. Scypris only drank one person's blood before, and that was to convince Vance that he could be trusted. Once he was let through the gates to see the rest of The Family (a group of people who believe that they are vampires), though, Scypris had slaughtered them, took everything valuable, and tossed the bodies into a nearby fire. He sold the advanced weaponry and schematics to a caravan, then used the caps to fix his 10mm pistol, which had taken severe damage during the firefight that had taken place with The Family.

Scypris groaned when he ran out of ammo. Now his only weapon was his Combat Knife. He had lost his emergency weapons (a sniper rifle, a combat shotgun, and an assault rifle (not a Chinese rifle, just a normal one) when he destroyed the Underworld. He was starting to realize what he had just done. It was falling on him.

_I just killed myself._ He realized. He didn't actually take his own life, but he pretended to. He couldn't see his old friends again. All two of them. Uncle Leo and Reilly. Reilly. Reilly. Reilly. Reilly. Reilly. Shit.

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Starlll: Some of you may be confused by Scypris' memories. Just remember that this story takes place AFTER a good majority of the quests in Fallout 3. And also don't forget that Scypris has no plans to redeem himself any time soon.

Scypris: (Nods)

Starlll: Oh, and one last thing: I'm trying to write this in a different style than I usually do: with very little dialogue. When you think about it, there isn't much talking in Fallout 3 unless you're in a town. And even then, it can be very limited, 'I'd like to buy this', 'Where is the hospital', and 'I'd like to see what's on the menu'.

Scypris: Exactly.


	3. How They Began

Starlll: Whew, finally. A chapter with some decent dialogue. Now I'm back in my element!

Pearson: Honestly? I thought that you wanted to challenge you ability as a writer by forcing yourself to do an entire story on narrative.

Starlll: ...Well, I COULD, but this is a dedication to New VEGAS. Not New... bookish... boring... place...!

Pearson: You're an idiot.

Starlll: But I'm also one hell of a writer!

The bar: Yeah!

/

Scypris fell to the ground. He actually fell to the ground. SHIT. REILLY. REILLY. He lost Reilly. His girlfriend. Or, at least, she was his Capital Wasteland's equivalent of a girlfriend. He would never see her again. Scypris could care less about his life in the Capital Wasteland, he could leave it without a second, so long as he had his life savings and guns. But Reilly... Reilly was...

Scypris lifted his head slightly, then let it hit the ground.

He thought about when they first met. He was in the Underworld at the time...

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_Scypris walked into the hospital of the Underworld, alias 'The Chop Shop'. His one good eye was glancing around the room, trying to find a doctor. Scypris wasn't wearing his reflective sunglasses. He never wore them in the Underworld. He had spent the night at the local bar, after a firefight. He had taken a bullet to his hip, but it was really just a flesh wound. Scypris wouldn't have given it a second thought, considering that he was shot through-and-through, no visible shrapnel, but it had gotten infected while he was in the bar._

"_Ah, a smoothskin." Said the ghoul who was clearly the Doctor._

"_Dr. Barrows?" Scypris asked, putting his hand over his wound._

"_You are correct, sir!" Dr. Barrows said, walking over to table with a bone-cutting knife on it. "I assume that you intend to, ahem, donate?"_

_Scypris hesitated, looking at Barrows' face. He had a creepy grin._

"_Donate... what, exactly?" He asked, taking his hand off of his bullet wound and over his cap-pouch._

"_Listen, ghouls' bodies make no sense. They can live without their intestines, blood, stomachs, you name it, they can spare it. But there has to be SOMETHING that keeps us ticking, and that's what I intend to find out. So, what are you donating? You have a very... curious looking eye." Dr. Barrows said, picking up his bone-cutter. _

_Scypris took a step back._

"_You touch me, I scream feral." Scypris warned._

"_Fair enough." The doctor said with a sigh._

"_Anyway, do you have anyone... ELSE who can look at this for me?" Scypris asked, lifting up his shirt slightly to show his infection. Barrows nodded, and motioned for his nurse to come over. She injected him with a needle (Scypris flinched at this. He had never been one for needles), and then stitched closed the wound. Scypris looked away while she threaded him closed. Then he saw a woman laying down on a bed in the corner, unconscious._

_Scypris hesitated. It took him almost two full minutes for him to realize he was staring at her legs. Shit. Scypris looked away instantly, trying to distract himself. Which he did: two Glowing Ones were inside of cells, standing around._

_Scypris wound up making some excuse to go the Chop Shop every day for almost a week, from rad-poisoning to actually donating a few finger nails. The nurse (Nurse Graves) was the first to comment on how often he visited. She calmly asked him why he seemed so curious about the girl in the corner. Well, her actual words were:_

"_What, you got the hots for the near-dead body over there?"_

_Scypris instantly shot awake (he was having blood drawn), and looked the Nurse Graves._

"_Ex-excuse me?" He asked. Scypris may be almost 20, but he grew up in a vault. The only girl who he was ever attracted to before this was his friend, Amata._

"_For god's sakes, you've put up with more shit from Doc than a sewer Radroach." Graves said, rolling her eyes. "And every time, you have that same stare. Honestly, she's not even awake!"_

_Scypris pulled out the needle because he could feel the blood gushing out his arms more than normal, and sat there, dumbfounded. He honestly had no idea WHAT the hell to say. Nurse Graves hesitated, then said:_

"_Look, in three days, Barrows is going to wake him up. Come back then."_

_Scypris nodded, and left the Chop shop._

/

_Scypris spent the next three days in the Washington Monument, sniping down super mutants. He had rigged the area with grenade bouquets, so he would have a suitable last line of defense in case he was discovered. _

_On the third and final day, Scypris felt himself moving faster than normal, feeling sort of... jittery. He had trouble sitting still. He rushed through the now mostly-cleared trenches and back into the Underworld. He knew that the supers had to be completely and totally slaughtered all at once to keep them from ever coming back from the trenches, but still, one Ugly that he killed was one less that he'd have to kill later._

_Scypris was nearly skipping when he reached the statue of a mammoth. He noticed this and calmed himself down. He never said two words to the girl, before._

Not girl. _He corrected himself. _Woman.

_Scypris walked into the Chop Shop. She was awake, sitting on the bed. It was the first time he saw her eyes open. They were a deep marble green _(1), _which Scypris felt immersed in. Her face was dirty, but since this was the Capital Wasteland, that was to be expected. He started to stare, but then stopped that, too. He walked over to her._

"_Hey." Scypris said, not sure what else to say._

"_...Hey." She said, somewhat awkwardly._

_Scypris didn't know what to do. Dammit, he knew how to kill a man by stabbing his kidneys, he could snipe like a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin, he once took on a horde of ghouls with just a knife, but he had no idea how to talk to the woman in front of him._

"_My name's Reilly." She said. Normally, this is where you hold you hand out for the other person to shake. Reilly made no such offer._

"_I'm Scypris." Scypris said._

_Remember, this was BEFORE Scypris was decided to be one of the most dangerous criminals in the Capital Wasteland, so Reilly didn't recognize him as a raider._

"_Wait... are you Reilly from Reilly's Rangers?" Scypris asked. _Good. _He thought. _Ask her questions about herself.

_Reilly nodded, surprised._

"_Yeah, I am. How'd you know that?" Scypris fought a smile when he heard her accent. She sounded Irish._

"_Your armor has a Shamrock on it." Scypris said, pointing to her armor in a corner. "And you have a slight accent. That's usually rare in the Wasteland. Mercenaries are fairly common, but you're the only Irish one that I've ever heard of."_

_Reilly looked at him, amazed._

"_You really figured all of that out?"_

_There was a slight pause._

"_No, actually the Doc told me who you were. I just made up the rest as I went along." Scypris said, face twisting into a smile. Reilly let out a slight laugh. She liked him. Thank God._

"_So, what are you doing here?" Reilly asked. Scypris shrugged._

"_I come to the Underworld every few weeks to take a load off. Have a drink." Scypris said._

"_No, I meant, what are you doing _here_? In the hospital?" Reilly asked._

Shit. _Scypris thought. It wasn't like he could just say 'I've been staring at you for the past week'. He needed to lie..._

"_I'm donating blood." Scypris lied, smoothly. "For Doc's research. I might as well, I'm losing some anyway." He pointed to where his stitches used to be, lifting up his shirt a bit to do so._

"_Ah." Reilly said, nodding. "I think that I've been unconscious for about a week... f_'[#](2)_ck." She whispered the last part, realizing something._

"_What?" Scypris asked. He was about to take her hand, when he realized that would be taking it a bit too far._

"_My team... my mercenaries, they're trapped._"

[Well, you played the game, you know what happens from here. Reilly asks Scypris to save her team, Scypris says yes, but not before asking what's in it for him. Reilly laughs, calls him a 'real mercenary', and Scypris goes out and saves Reilly's Rangers. THEN, after the game's set quest is over, Scypris starts visiting Reilly every once and a while, and they get some on-again-off-again relationship.]

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/

Scypris slowly got off the ground. His left eye hurt. His tear duct was damaged when his eye was. He dried whatever tears were forming, and got up. He spent enough time in Dukov's place. He would get out of the DC area by the end of tomorrow night, that was his goal. He couldn't go through the metro tunnels, because that would be too easy to track. No, he would have to go above ground, in the sunlight. Maybe he could kill a caravan, and get a new pair of sunglasses, and restock his weapons.

He thought of a destination. He needed a place to stay when he got out of the DC area.

A factory.

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A/N

/

Starlll: Wow. That actually had less dialogue than I expected. Yay, I think! Anyway, thanks to everybody reading! Or, even better, thanks even MORE to those of you who review! Keep reading, keep reviewing!

Scypris: Blah blah blah, review review review. Is that all you care about?

Starlll: No. I also care about cookies, and New Vegas! 30 days until it comes out! Or... well, since I'm updating at night, more like 29 days! Yay, one less day to wait!

I did research on this. Reilly's eyes are green.

Yes, I censored it. For those of you who don't care: Good for you! For those of you who aren't over it: get over it.


	4. The Hunt

Starlll: (playing 21)

Scypris: (Dealing) Okay, you're up to 7.

Starlll: Hit me.

Scypris: (Deals him a six)

Starlll: (Up to 13) Hit me.

Scypris: (Deals him a five)

Starlll: (Up to 18) Hit me.

Scypris: That's pretty risky. Not worth it, if you ask me. (Deals him a 3) What do you know? You're up to 21!

Starlll: Hit me.

Scypris: (Hits him in the face)

Starlll: Ow! (Rubs his face) Jeez. Anyway, for those of you who don't know, the river that separates the Capital Wasteland from the DC area is called the 'Potomac'.

/

Scypris made one last mad dash from the building-line to the river. He was being chased. Frickin' Super mutants. They were armed with hunting rifles and centaurs, shooting at him with terrible accuracy.

Scypris dived right into the Potomac River, head-first. The murky brown water covered his trail, giving him ample chance to get away. He began swimming downstream, using his left (bad) eye to see. Well, at least, some variation of seeing. Scypris found that since it was damaged by radiation, it wasn't harmed by it. At least, he hoped it wasn't.

He felt objects whizzing by, probably bullets. He felt one hit him in the arm. Yes, definitely bullets.

"AAAAAAAAURGH!" He shouted underwater, his voice muffled for obvious reasons. He resurfaced, trying to get away. He got out of the water, feeling the slipstream of what were probably .32 bullets. Scypris was on the other side of the super mutants now, what was left of the Potomac between them. But he wasn't out of the woods yet. They still had guns.

Scypris dove behind a rock. He heard bullets ricochet off of the boulder, but none made contact with him. Scypris injected himself with some Physco that he found in Dukov's place. It felt like his brain was beating against his skull, like it was too big for his head, trying to burst out. His veins pulsed and bulged, worming and crawling through his arms. Scypris spat out some blood (he didn't even bother trying to figure out _why_ blood was suddenly in his throat), and pulled o he 10mm. He dove from behind the boulder he was hiding beside.

Scypris skuesed off three shots and ened the first munant. The second one toared a battle cry, and dove into the cake. The third one picked up the dead mutant's rifle, and held one in each arm, fireing rifles akimbo. Scypris got hit by tree bulls at once, the lg, the smach, and the left houlde. He pulled the trigger floor times, dropping the second one.

Two down, one sto go.

Scypris dove after the one in the river, dropping his pistol, because it was out of amo. He tried to ranle it, but when that proved inaffective, he tried to drunk it into the water. Failure. The super mutant had dropped it's gun when Scypris juped on it, but it still was strngr than he was. By a lng shot.

It pushed him undwater, Scypris suddenly weigess. How woud he get out of ths one? How would he live this time...

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Starlll: Yeah, I know, it had terrible speeling... I mean, spelling. Darn, have to get out of that habit. Anyway, as I was saying, I know it had bad spelling. That was intentional. Because Scypris took physco, I decided to make it kind of blurry.

Scypris: You made me take a drug? Honestly?

Starlll: What?

Scypris: You've never even USED that drug in the game.

Starlll: ...You point?

Scypris: Idiot.

Starlll: Says you. Anyway, this chapter is kinda' short, so... I'm doing a double cliffy! Yaaaaay!

/

Pearson got out of his queen-sized bed, and began stretching. After a few minutes, he took a sword off of his wall, and made a few practice motions with it. He saw a radroach out of the corner of his eye, and slashed it in half with one quick motion, without even thinking.

Pearson turned to his side to see his work. The roach was sliced clean in half, one perfect line dividing it. This was nothing new; Pearson had done this many, many times before. When he was first in training, he used to keep tally on how often he perfected this skill. He stopped somewhere are 1000.

He put away his sword, and headed downstairs. He lived in a two floor house, sleeping on the top floor. On the bottom floor was a terminal, which was fed a signal from a base which Pearson would rather kill himself before revealing. Pearson turned on the terminal.

Target: Scypris Colt

Pay: 5500 caps

Race: Caucasian

Gender: Male

Distinguishing Traits: One yellow eye, parted combat armor (may have changed)

Warning: Survivor from the war. He has survived every trap, killer, and threat that has been thrown at him. He has once killed a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin in single combat. Don't take him lightly.

Details: Rumors to have died in the Underworld. This is bullshit. Until we see the body, we aren't convinced. Track, hunt, kill.

Pearson read the report. It sounded interesting. He took his sniper rifle, ammo, three types of swords, and headed out.

Time to kill.

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Countdown to New Vegas: 29 days (though once again, updating at night, so probably 28 by the time you read it)!


	5. The Hangover

A/N

Starlll: I hope you managed to enjoy you week. Now, for the chapter! ...Wow, this has to be my shortest Author's Notes in a while!

\

Scypris woke up, curled in a ball, half naked and surrounded by food. Three hunting rifles lay scattered about, disassembled. He had clearly tried to take them apart and salvage the best parts to make a better overall hunting rifle. In his drugged, damaged, and probably drunk state, there was no way he could have succeeded. Scypris groaned. This sort of thing always happened when he took Physcho. He woke up, no memory of what happened earlier, and a pulsing headache.

The last time he took the injection, he wound up sleeping on a huge pile of empty beer and wine bottles, in Talon Combat armor (he never figured out exactly HOW he got the armor), and a helmet made out of radroach shells were next to the giant pile. One good thing did come from it, though. He sold the helmet to a caravan and got a nice profit from the 'customized' armor.

Scypris started to get up, but his headache flared up, and he fell back onto the pile of food. He couldn't see out of either eye for a moment, a ringing noise in his ears. He felt a scream well up inside of him. He knew that if he went blind, even for a few months (or even weeks), then he may as well point a gun to his head and pull the trigger. Not that he hadn't considered doing that a few times already, but he still always decided against it.

He laid on his side, kicking furiously. The pain in his head was too much. Blood drained from his limbs and pumped into his head, like a hose pumping water into a balloon. Scypris kicked the ground over and over again, like a six-year-old throwing a tantrum. The scream that was welling in him finally broke out. Scypris screamed as loudly as he could, getting it out. He didn't leave one bit of energy to fight the pain in his head. Slowly, the pain took over him...

/

Scypris woke up again. He looked around. Nothing much had changed in the time he was out for. Had you asked him, he probably would have no idea how long he was out for, but the smart money would be on about half an hour.

Wait a minute... he LOOKED around. Thank whatever post-apocalyptic god there is out there. He could still see. Scypris slowly got up, fighting his headache. He had been on the ground too much lately. Let's see if we can't finish the job on those hunting rifles.

He pulled the trigger and scope out of one, the hammer and bullet wheel (1) out of the second, and reconfigured them into the third, which had the best frame of the three. Scypris slung the ammunition he managed to take with him in spite of his drugged state (roughly 20 rounds), and started to head outside.

"Well I'll be damned." Scypris said out loud. He had been in Mama Dolce's.

Mama Dolce's was a food-packaging plant, which made deliveries all across the DC area before the bombs fell. Well, at least, that was the idea. It was actually a cover for Chinese spies during the Great War. They used the deliveries and factory as a cover to map out and target the area.

Scypris had pretty much routed the area a long time ago during an assault on the Brotherhood of Steel (assault was too large of a word. Hit-and-run would be a better term), which he used as a temporary base of operations. It had served him well until he was discovered, and he had to run.

Scypris took a look around. Nothing much, just a few hawks flying around in the sky, a mirelurk nest hatching in the distance...

No, it seemed clear. No Super Mutants jumping out of nowhere, no sudden explosions, no initiates, just one day of clear traveling ahead.

It's amazing just how one man can be.

\

Starlll: Whew, these chapters are taking longer and longer to write!

Scypris: They're also getting shorter and shorter.

Starlll: Yeah, you're right. I'd better get this plot moving! Here we go!

Countdown: 16 days!


	6. Yao Guai Attack

A/N

Starlll: Man, still SIXTEEN DAYS until New Vegas comes out? Well, at least that means I still have time to write this!

Scypris: Yes, it does. Good for you. Now write it-

Starlll: Oh yes, I have time. A lot of time. 16 days. That means... in hours...

Scypris: We don't care. Now start writing-

Starlll: Yessiree! I can write and relax, my favorite two things to do. Not nessisarily in that order, depending on my mood, but I still like the two of them. I suppose writing is my hobby, or something. Which is good, because I need a hobby. I haven't had one since...

Scypris: FOR GOD'S SAKES, START WRITING ALREADY!

Starlll: When I'm good and ready! Jeez, this new generation is so persistant...

Scypris: I'm OLDER than you.

Starlll: Stop pointing out my mistakes! Sheesh... man, I don't know what's wrong with my OC's nowadays... so rebellious-

Scypris: MOTHER F[Bleep]ER! GET ON WITH IT ALREADY! (Shoots Starlll a few times)

\

Times Starlll has been shot: 2

/

Disclaimer: I don't own New Vegas or Fallout 3. They both belong to Bethseda. I'm pretty sure. But man, if I DID own New Vegas/Fallout 3, it would be GREAT! There would be turns and twists, and you would have to make a base-ish thing, and you could custumize your own room... Oh, right, I DO, however, own Scypris, Daniel, and Pax the Dreamer. Wait, no, ignore that last one. I don't own him.

Dark Starlll: Not yet, anyway... MWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Scypris: Get on with it already! (Shoots Starlll)

\

Times Starlll has been shot: 3

/

Scypris hiked up the rocky outcrop, and looked over it. It was clear, as far as he could tell, so he climbed down. But, as the great writers have explained: 'looks can be deciveing'.

Now, that's not to say that instantly, right away, Scypris will suddenly be attacked by an entire frickin' tribe of mother Deathclaws. No, one thing you should learn quickly when reading my writing is that when I imply things, it's rare that I follow through with the implication.

…

Okay, that's total BS, I'm totally going through with that implication.

The moment Scypris touched ground, a Yao Guai lept out from behind a boulder, tackling and pinning him against the outcrop with it's claws. Scypris scrambled in surprise, his 10mm knocked out of it's holister.

The Yao Guai gave a loud roar, snapping it's head back to do so. Good, it was male. Only male Yao Guai roared before killing. Granted, it being male meant that it's claws were bigger than they would be if it was a female, but that did mean it had at least ONE specific weakness that the female didn't have.

Scypris rammed his foot in between the Yao Guai's hindlegs as hard as he could, making it roar a second time-this time, in pain. This made it ease up for a moment, giving Scypris a chance to scramble away. He began running, using his three-and-a-half second headstart to pull out his upgraded hunting rifle, and cocked it. He whiped around, and shot it in the first place he could find flesh, which happened to be the area near it's spine. Scypris started to cock the rifle a second time, but the Yao Guai managed to knock him down before he could pull it back completely.

Scypris was only hit in the shoulders, so the Yao Guai didn't get a chance to pin him down this time. He got out from under it, and then grabbed a rock from the ground, prepared to bash in it's skull. It's spine was definitely damaged when Scypris shot it, so that meant it probably wouldn't be so quick on it's feet now. Plus, Scypris knew a few weaknesses about Yao Guai that most others didn't live long enough to observe. Like how they rely on their hearing more than they did their sight.

Scypris got behind a boulder, and scrambled up it. He prepared for it to pounce. This would be the perfect time for him to quote an old line from Star Wars, had Scypris ever watched an episode. The Yao Guai jumped at him, trying to knock him down. But Scypris was ready for this. In fact, he was planning on it. He dove out of the way, jumping off the boulder. The Yao Guai tried to reach out and claw him while he jumped out of the way, but Scypris was already was out of it's reach. But it was looking at where it would land.

The beast landed right on the uneven edge of rock, probably breaking a few bones (at least a few ribs had cracked), but it slowly got back up. Radiation had driven the creature to it's breaking point. Hunger had made it insane. Anger, anger to the world for twisting it's soul, anger for never having food, anger for it's pack leaving it. But at the time, it was angriest at the man in front of it, causing it so much pain.

The Yao Guai shook it's head, and charged one more time. Scypris tried to dive to the side, but he didn't make it in time. It got him. Pinning him down with it's claws (going through his shoulders and shins), the Yao Guai roared. Similar to last time, but now it was louder. It just defeated a great warrior, and now, it would feast. Scypris didn't stop struggling. He tried to get out of the way, but he couldn't. He would have to rip off his arms and legs to do so.

The Yao Guai lowered it's head to bite into his flesh.

\

Starlll: Well, there you go! Another cliffy! Though, if you read the entire chapter close enough, you can probably figure out how Scypris escapes. Yes, I'm admitting that Scypris escapes death. I mean, what did you expect? I'm not killing off my main character so quickly in the story.

Scypris: You better not.

Dark Starlll: MWAHAHAHAHAHA!

/

Days until New Vegas Comes out: 15 days!


	7. Pearson

Pearson stepped over the ashes that was once the Underworld. It was entirely collapsed, no trace of life. Almost.

He could see an arm, slowly squeezing into a fist. Then it turned back into a palm. Then back to a fist. Blood was running down it, along with a radroach trying to eat it. Pearson drew his sword.

1124 and counting.

The arm felt the swish of wind that his sword left behind, and waved around a bit. Pearson stepped on it. He leaned on the appendage for a moment, then stepped off. Pearson pulled a boulder off of the arm, showing a man underneath. A man, not a ghoul.

He gaped his mouth a few times, not able to talk. He had been there for nearly three days, blood caking his clothes. He squirmed, trying to move.

Pearson stepped on his stomach, and the crippled man managed to give a hoarse, painful shout.

"I'm afraid I don't have any extra stimpacks, so you'll have to suck it up for now." Pearson said coldly. "Now, you'll answer a few questions about just what happened here." He put his foot over the man's neck. "Understand."

The man just stared, a smile forming. Pearson pushed down with his foot.

"Do you understand?"

He laughed with some pain, then croaked out a 'yes'.

"Good."


	8. Daniel

A/N

Starlll: Man, I really have to get cracking! Because while I was slacking, this story became lacking. I have to make it crackalacking!

Random guy: (Starts beatboxing)

Starlll: I really need to get cracking on this lacking story cuz if I don't I'll get a smacking, heard? [Dun-dun-dun-dun] The story's really backing on the plot I thought was grapping. I really shouldn't be snacking cuz' this story ain't attacking, WORD!

Scypris: SHUT UP! (Shoots Starlll)

/

Times Starlll has been shot: 4

\

Daniel never wanted to be a mercenary.

Well, he did, but he never wanted to be an ACTUAL mercenary. Like how some children say that they want to be pirates. They don't ACTUALLY want to be REAL pirates, they just think that the pretend ones from Peter Pan and movies are really cool. They never realize that pirates actually live filthy lives full of drinking, blood, and disease.

It was the same with Daniel. His parents were caravans, who raised him like he was the only thing that mattered. Considering that there wasn't much else TO care about in the wastelands, though, this may not be much of an achievement. But they still loved him more than anything else they had, and wanted the best for him.

When they asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, Daniel, full of 10-year-old spirit and fun, made a pretend gun with his fingers and replied that he wanted to be a mercenary. But they figured that he just meant the PRETEND mercenaries, who lived lives of adventure and heroics (which he probably did back then), so they let him play with an unloaded gun and encouraged him to have fun.

When I say, 'have fun', I don't mean it in the way that implies that they were bad parents. The gun was loaded, and the father had put a safety on it just in case.

But Daniel grew up, and his beliefs that mercenaries were nothing more than people who led lives of wonder and adventure never faded. When he turned fourteen, he parents tried and tried again to convince him that he was actually wrong, but the never succeded.

You can imagine why Daniel saw his parent's deaths (an albino radscorpian) as an opportunity. He gave his parents the best military-style burial that he could (as a way of kicking off his new life), and began to search for a group hiring mecrenaries.

His parents (if they were still alive) would have hoped that he at least met a _nice_ merenary group, one that would take him under their wing like a dove would. If only he had accedentally bumped into Reilly's Rangers, or Sydney, or any mercenary that was a protector, not a killer. If only he bumped into a group who would take him under their wing like a dove. But he didn't. Instead the mercenaries that got to him first... well, suffice to say, they still took him under their wing. But under that wing was a pair of claws. A pair of Talons.

/

"GET THE BLOODY HELL UP!" Screamed a red-faced troop leader of the Talon Mercenaries. Daniel rolled out of bed, and saluted lazily.

"Sir yes sir." Daniel said, cheerfully. This was only bootcamp. Soon he could go on adventures with friends... the latter of which he would make soon enough.

"GO GET ME MY BREAKFAST!" The troop leader shouted, face still beet-red with rage.

"Sir yes sir!" Daniel said, saluting again with a grin, then ran off with a hunting rifle, intending to use it for it's intended purpose.

Problem is, any avid Fallout-player should know, it's rare that your day goes straightforward.

Daniel stopped a few feet away from the weapons rack, then decided to take a shotgun off the rack as well, and jammed a dozen or so packs of ammo in his pockets, then continued his half-run half-skip.

\

Starlll: Nana-nana-nana-nana BATMAN! (Mini Nuke explosion behind him, which fades in the shape of the Batman Symbol)


	9. Daniel Pt 2

Author's Notes:

Starlll: HOLY DAMN! I HAVE FOUR DAYS TO FINISH THIS STORY! DANG YOU, DISTRACTIONS! DAAAAAAAAAAAAANG YOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUU!

/

Disclaimer: I don't own New Vegas, Fallout 3, or any related products. I wish I did, though. Because if I did, I would make mutant spiders, which rivaled the Radscorpions similar to that of the Deathclaw and the Yao Guai...

\

Daniel, Part 2:

/

Daniel started hunting for food. He had his Hunting rifle in his hands, the scope damaged but still good enough to hurt something. The scope had broken about an hour ago when he used the barrel of the gun to kill a persistent Radroach. In all honesty, Daniel used a gun like a bat to kill it because he was too squeamish around insects to just step on it a few times. He had held the gun by the barrel and smashed in the giant radroach's abdomen with the handle.

Now Daniel felt disgusted to hold it by the end he used to kill the roach with, but at least he didn't waste any ammo this time!

Daniel began heading south east, hoping there would be some game to catch. Insects had no good meat to speak of, and humans were inedible for obvious reasons, so mutated Mole Rats and wild dogs were the best. Though dogs usually traveled in packs, so you would end up with a surplus of meat, which was more than you could carry. A scouting dog would be best.

Daniel smiled as he thought of these exact thoughts. There were SOME perks to having caravans as parents. He held out his rifle (careful to avoid any leftover roach insides), and began running.

\

The initiate stood on one knee like the people from the stories (and occasional movie, if his parents found a DVD that was still good, along with an old battery-powered TV. He looked over the damaged scopes, aimed for a hawk (or maybe it was a vulture. It was so difficult to tell from this far away.

Daniel pulled on the trigger and-  
B  
A  
N  
G!

Daniel check to see if he hit anything. Nope. He sighed and cocked the gun, releasing the used bullet shell from it. That was the sixth shot he'd taken so far, and none of them hit their mark. The Hunting Rifle was far more accurate than the shotgun, as the name implies. The shotgun was loaded with shells, which were filled with pellets, not bullets. The release more of a spray than a direct shot. That was one ironic thing about the SHOTgun. It never delivers a clear shot.

He gave up on the birds, and started searching for a land animal. Who knows? Maybe he would be able to find a hurt Yao-Guai. Daniel nodded at that thought. Then he heard gunshot off in the distance. Not in the direction of the camp, though. The exact opposite, in fact. Daniel pulled out his Hunting Rifle and began running again. After a moment, he turned a corner and saw a Yao-Guai on top of a man. The bear-like beast roared and prepared to sink it's fangs into the man. Daniel dropped his Hunting Rifle, and whipped out his shotgun. He aimed for it's head and pulled the trigger...

/

A/N

\

Starlll: (Running around, waving his arms around) Okay! One chapter down, only a few to go!

Scypris: Nice FILLER chapter.

Starlll: This wasn't filler! It gave some backstory on Daniel!

Daniel: Yeah!

Scypris: No really. Just that he thinks rad roaches are gross and that he isn't a very good shot.

Daniel: ...You stink...

Scypris: Say that again, I swear to god.

(Everything starts moving in slow motion)

Daniel: Yoooooooouuuuuuu suuuuuuuuuuuuck!

(Scypris pulls out a gun and aims it at Daniel.)

Starlll: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! (Dives in the way of the gun as it fires, the screen going black right as he gets hit by the bullets.

/

Times Starlll has been shot: 5

\

Days until Fallout New Vegas comes out: 4 DAYS! HOLY DARNIT! OH NO! FIVE CHAPTERS, and only FOUR days! AND, I can't write over the weekend, because I'm going on a FAMILY TRIP! Not that I'm complaining, but STILL! Gotta move gotta move...


	10. How The Met

A/N

Starlll: Happy author's week!

Scypris: What?

Starlll: You know, author's week. The week where I write like hell to make up for all the time I spent lollygagging!

Scypris: Does this have anything to do with the fact that you're trying to cram five chapters into three hours?

Starlll: (Laughing) Trying to cram five (laughs) cramming five chapters (laughs) five chapters into (laughs) trying to cram five chapters... yeah, it does.

Scypris: I figured. Now can we get back to me already?

Starlll: SOMEbody is a little bit self-absorbed today- (Scypris pulls out a gun) -which just so happens to be me. Yes, I'M the self-absorbed one. Not you. Please don't shoot me.

/

Disclaimer: I don't own New Vegas, Fallout 3, or any related products. But if I did, oh man, I'd push the release date a TINY bit further. Just a day or two, so I could finish this story without PULLING FIVE CHAPTERS OUT OF MY A**!

\

The Yao Guai shook it's head, and charged one more time. Scypris tried to dive to the side, but he didn't make it in time. It got him. Pinning him down with it's claws (going through his shoulders and shins), the Yao Guai roared. Similar to last time, but now it was louder. It just defeated a great warrior, and now, it would feast. Scypris didn't stop struggling. He tried to get out of the way, but he couldn't. He would have to rip off his arms and legs to do so.

The Yao Guai lowered it's head to bite into his flesh, then suddenly there was a loud BANG, and pellets tore into it's head, killing it almost instantly. The body fell over, the claws coming out with a bit of flesh and a lot of blood.

Scypris swiviled his head over to who saved him, managing to get his hand onto his combat knife. Other than that, though, he was unarmed. Shit. It was a Talon Mercenary. Though still very new to the practice. He still hadn't gone on the initiation yet (which had been mentioned earlier, when Scypris was attacked by two Brotherhood of Steel initiates), where they were stripped of their clothes, and left alone in the wasteland for three days with only a knife and a pistol with five rounds in it.

This one was still new to his practice. But that's not to say that he couldn't kill. Most Talon Mercs were actually veteren raiders who decided to take killing and stealing to the next level. Then again, if this was a veteren raider, odds are he had heard of Scypris through the raider's grapevine. And how he had hidden an entire car filled completely with caps somewhere in the wastes. That one last piece of information was Scypris's ticket to life.

"...Hi, there." The man (he was more of a boy, actually) said.

"...Hi?" Scypris replied, his torso feeling like it was collapsing in on him. This idiot definitely wasn't a veteren. Scypris doubted that he ever even killed a human before.

"...How are you doing?" He asked.

"I just got attacked by a frickin' Yao-Guai, clawed in four different places, and now some asshole is asking me if I'm _okay_. How do you THINK I'm doing?" Scypris shouted, then regreted it when he felt his lung pulsing with pain.

"Sorry, just asking. You want a stimpack?"

"Take a guess."

"Okay." There was a long moment of silence. "I'm guessing you want it."  
"You are correct, idiot." Scypris replied as the boy hunched over him, trying to find the right place to administer the stimpack.

"The stomach." Scypris said, annoyed. "Put it in my stomach."

"Oh. Right. Okay. My name's Daniel, by the way." Daniel said, holding his hand out for Scypris to shake.  
"Scypris." Scypris replied, handing Daniel his good arm. Scypris let the stimpack take effect, then slowly got up. He looked at Daniel for a good long moment. He stared him down and... Scypris grabbed the shotgun out of his hands, spun Daniel around before he could react, and began choking him with his own gun. "Listen to me: You just saved my life. For that, I won't take yours. But you NEVER saw me here. If anybody finds out I'm still alive, they'll hunt me down. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" Scypris shouted out the last part, and Daniel breathed out a yes. Scypris let go.

"Wait, who are 'they'? ...Are you being hunted by raiders?" Daniel asked, hopeful. He could get his first job right now! Protecting an innocent man from a gang of evil raiders!

"...Yes, I'm being hunted by raiders." Scypris lied.

"Really? This is so great! Not for you, of course. It sucks for you. Not that I'm trying to bring you down, it's just that it genuinely sucks for you. But maybe if you have any extra caps to spare or even just something valuable that would be great because maybe since I'm a mercenary I could get a job protecting you and it would be great because I need experience and since I just need experience and I can hunt my own meat if you want then you can pay nothing at all and I can just consider this a learning opportunity and this is going to be SO COOL!" Daniel shouted, not leaving any space between his words near the end.

"...I have a feeling that I'm going to regret this." Scypris muttered, handing Daniel his shotgun back and stooping to pick up his hunting rifle and pistol.

"YAAAAY!" Daniel shouted, happily.

/

Starlll: Two down, three to go! Yay!

\

Days until New Vegas comes out: Four!


	11. Hail the King

A/N

Starlll: And let it begin!

Scypris: Good. (Shoots his gun in the air, to signal the start of something)

\

Disclaimer: My disclaimer from the last chapter still stands.

/

Chapter 11: The Behemoth King

\

Scypris and Daniel walked through the wasteland.

"THREEEE DOOOOOOOG!" The voice on Scypris' Pip-Boy howled. "Here to give you the latest news on what's going down in the wasteland! It's been a whole week since that no-good raider died in the explosion. Yup, he's dead alright!" Then his mood turned sad. "But this is where it gets kind of sad. You see, the explosion that killed him also took down the Underworld, home of the ghouls. There weren't any survivors. So if you get a chance, give a few nice thoughts to all of those innocent ghouls who lost their lives protecting us from that killer."

Scypris switched off his Pip-Boy.

"Sad, isn't it?" Daniel asked, itching his back with his shotgun. Scypris had disassembled Daniel's Hunting Rifle to improve his own. This was no problem with Daniel, though. It was more of a ranged weapon, anyway. He preferred the close-ness of the shotgun. "All those people who died?"

"Very sad." Scypris said, not looking back at him.

"What was that raider's name, anyway? That dude on the radio said he refused to repeat his name, something about an oath of silence."

"I don't know." He lied.

"But if you had to guess, what would you say?" Daniel persisted, stepping around a rock which he would have otherwise tripped over.

Scypris was about to make up a name when they heard a shout.

"Hey, you! Hey, down there!" There was a man shouting from on top of a cliff. "What are you doing? This is Super Mutant territory!"

Scypris looked at him quizzically through the new pair of reflective sunglasses he traded with a caravan to get. Normally, he would have just killed the caravan and taken them off of his corpse, but Daniel was there. Scypris had to take the innocent route for once.

"Super Mutant territory?" Daniel repeated, confused.

"Yes!" Shouted the man, climbing down from the cliff on a ladder. He was clearly in his sixties, as he had wrinkled skin and salt-and-pepper hair. He had a sniper rifle on his back and a pair of binoculars in his hand. "Every day, I see at least twenty of them, bringing dead Yao Guai to their king! The King Behemoth!" He shouted.

"Listen, Old man." Scypris said, annoyed. "The Supers have been driven out of this part of the Wasteland a long time ago by the Talon Mercs. You're going crazy with age. Now let us through."

"Don't say I didn't warn you!" He shouted, letting them past the cliff. "The King will kill us all!"

/

Even though Scypris reassured him nearly five times that the old man was crazy, Daniel was still afraid that they might run into super mutants.

"If there were super mutants, then there would be centaurs. And if there are centaurs, we would KNOW. You can smell them from a mile away." Scypris explained.

"But what if there weren't any? Like, the King wanted centaur meat, so they slaughtered them all-"

"There IS NO SUCH THING as a Super Mutant King. Master? Yes. Behemoth? Yes. Overlord? Yes. But there is no such thing as a Super Mutant King."

Then, Daniel saw something. It was as tall at the bridges which were once highways, like a moving mountain. It had the same build as a Behemoth, just bigger. Much bigger. It had a truck attached to a giant pole in one hand, and a nuclear bomb next to the other. It was sitting on the ground, nothing special like a throne. It didn't need one. It was big enough to dwarf entire houses, entire towns. If it saw them, it would probably pick up the nuke next to it's hand and throw it like a football, dropping a mushroom cloud right on them.

"Quiet." Scypris whispered almost instantly. "You speak, you die. You speak, you die."

Daniel nodded and they began to walk softly away. Quietly. Quietly. Quietly, so the giant mutated freak doesn't decide to turn us into a mushroom cloud...

Then there was the sound of Centaurs. Shit. They were seen.

\

Starlll: Yes, I know that it's kind of a cliché to make a huge Behemoth, but you've gotta' admit: I'm literally pulling these chapters out of my back end. This is my third chapter in almost four hours. And my sister is watching Forest Gump in the background, so you can imagine my pain. Whether you like that movie or hate it, interpret it any way you want.

Scypris: Anyway, Starlll here found out that he still has until late tomorrow until he has to finish this, so this will be the last chapter for today.

/

Days until Fallout: New Vegas comes out: 4


	12. Retreat!

A/N

\

Starlll: Ugh. Stupid procrastination...

Scypris: What happened this time?  
Starlll: I made the same mistake. I got caught up with watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show, so now I have only THREE AND A HALF HOURS to finish this! Ugh... okay, here we go...

/

Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout 3, New Vegas, or The Breakfast Club. Though, in all honesty, I'd the most depressed about that last one.

\

LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!

/

They were seen. Shit.

There was a long moment of silence. Daniel stared at the Centaurs. They stared at him. This may have actually turned out well for him. Centaurs weren't normally predators; they only attacked when their Super Mutant masters told them to. It didn't matter if you killed the mutants first, though, as when a centaur gets a taste for blood, it won't stop fighting until dead.

Scypris pulled out his 10mm, and shot two of them in the head, killing them instantly. There were still three left. The centaurs began howling, the humans that's bodies were so twisted, so deformed that they grew three tongues and crawled on all four legs, let out a roar from the bowels of their lungs, alerting any and all nearby super mutants.

There was a hail of gunfire while they tried to shoot the two men, with inaccurate assault rifles and shotguns. Some mutants with only melee weapons (like nail boards and sledge hammers) charged at them.

"RUN!" Scypris shouted, trying to put as much distance from the guns as he could. They may be incredibly inaccurate, but there was still always the chance of one of them getting a lucky shot.

Daniel was frozen in fear. Never before had he seen so many guns, such huge mutants, death on so many levels. There were easily fifty supers surrounding them, making a semi-circle. The King was now standing up, running in their direction. He had left behind the nuke, considering that there were only two of them. The King was saving the nuke for a full-scale invasion.

That didn't, of course, prevent the mutants from slaughtering Scypris and Daniel in the most carnage-fulfilling way possible.

"**OFF HEADS!**" He shouted. "**OFF WITH HEADS!**(1)"

Scypris started to run, but Daniel couldn't move. He was nearly traumatized. Scypris grabbed Daniel's arm and forced him to run, away from the King. Away from the giant car-attached-to-a-metal-pole.

"God dammit." Scypris whispered as the Super Mutants blocked their only escape. He ran for a gap in the semi-sphere, a good few meters separating him from the mutants. Daniel ran behind him, keeping his head down. He managed to sneak in a few shots with his shotgun, but it didn't do any damage from the range.

They managed to break out of the circle, but the King was too fast. It's enormous legs covered enough distance to step over a river, which it probably would have if Scypris tried to cross one. Daniel was the first to notice how they could escape. A manhole. It seemed to have just jumped out of nowhere; a circular lid leading to the sewers. Daniel was the one who grabbed Scypris' arm this time, and pulled the manhole away from the ladder leading down into the sewers.

Scypris shoved Daniel down first, then went down himself, replacing the manhole. He climbed down himself, not bothering to do anything to remove the handles which worked as a ladder. Super Mutants couldn't used ladders. They didn't have toes, for one thing, and their hands were too big to fit through the holes. The could, of course, shoot down there, or throw grenades, but guns could only be aimed in so many directions. The King pounded at the manhole, shattering the metal with ungodly strength, but couldn't reach them now that they were in the sewers. They were safe. For now.

\

Scypris crushed another radroach with his foot, and kept walking. Daniel shuddered as he walked around the crushed roach, but made no attempt to crush it further with his gun.

The sewers proved to be darker than midnight, with the only light being the dim shine from Scypris' Pip-Boy. It was lucky that they hadn't run into any real monsters yet, save for a few roaches like the one Scypris just crushed.

"Where is this tunnel leading us?" Daniel whined. They had been traveling on foot for almost an hour, Scypris refusing to stop to rest for even a minute. Daniel may be naive, but he still realized that if he stopped following Scypris for even a few seconds, he would leave him behind in the pitch black tunnel.

"West." Scypris said, having consulted his Pip Boy several times previously.

"What's this stuff on the ground?"

"Radiated water."

"My feet hurt."  
"Suck it up." Scypris said, almost ready to shoot the boy.

Daniel grumbled childishly, but kept walking.

/

Starlll: And they move into the Sewers! Dun-dun-daaaaaa!

\

Days until Fallout: New Vegas comes out: 3! 3 days! Woot!

/

1) Nice reference to the Queen of Hearts, eh?


	13. The Fall

Pearson threw the man out of the tower, causing him to land on his stomach. It wasn't the same man who he found under the boulder. He had made a surprising recovery; able to walk again after just 15 hours. He had told Pearson everything that happened in the Underworld before and after the explosion, took the sunglasses Scypris left behind, and headed off into the distance. Pearson didn't stop him. He didn't have to.

Anyway, Pearson threw the old man out of the tower.

"Tell me where they went." Pearson demanded, the wrinkled man injured and in pain, but still alive.

"Two-two people. Sunglasses... The... the King... the Super Mutant King..." He choked out, almost dead. "That way."

Pearson nodded, leaving the old man to die.

/

Pearson ran up the bridge that once was a part of a highway. The King was trying to kill him as a consolation prize for missing out on his earlier prey. Pearson didn't intend to leave without one of them dieing.

The King swung with his gargantuan homemade sledge hammer, breaking the bridge. Pearson was on top of it, though, and he jumped for the King's head. It was a good 10-foot jump, which he perfected. He landed somewhere near the mutant's neck, so he used his sword to get a grip and to start climbing up. Though considering the size difference, it might as well have been a thumb tack instead of an actual sword. But Pearson climbed up to the top of the King's head, and balanced on top of his nose. He stabbed the King's eye, the sword going directly through.

The King shouted in pain for the first time in decades as Pearson shoved the sword even further, blinding him. Though his ears were shot from the noise, Pearson didn't give up just yet. He squeezed on the handle of the sword, which had a motorcycle brake built in. Pulling on the brake let out an oil onto the sword, which then lit on fire. The fire started and reached the inside of the King's head, which died quickly.

It fell to the ground, a colossal fall, which seemed to take centuries to land, which nearly caused and earthquake a mile around. Pearson jammed himself into the other eye while the body was falling, the jelly working a a pillow and shock absorber for him. Pearson crawled out.

The Super Mutants all started at him for a long time, none daring to blink while he pulled out his sword.

Then they all ran away.

There were only two things that ever made Super Mutants feel fear, let alone run away. The first was an air strike brought on by the enclave, which had destroyed everything in a 5-mile radius. The second was The King.

At that moment, Pearson trumped both of those.


	14. Our Ticket out of Here

A/N  
Starlll: THANK GOD! I still have one more day... which has only three hours left in it. Aw hell... I'm right back where I started! Oh well, I can probably crank out three chapters. You know, for what was originally a great idea, this story has caused me a lot of stress...

Scypris: Was it worth it?

Starlll: Hell yes. Hell yes.

Times Starlll has been shot: I lost count

Disclaimer: Still stands.

Scypris and Daniel continued through the sewers.  
"Wait, what's that light?" Daniel asked, pointing to a faint light in the far distance.  
"...And emergency light!" Scypris exclaimed, amazed. "These weren't sewers! This was a metro! It can lead us... wherever!"  
"What are we waiting for? Let's run!" Daniel shouted, happy.  
The two ran to the boarding station, and up some stairs. There were a few skeletons (which Daniel gagged at), and a terminal which still managed to work. Scypris sat down at the terminal, and hacked a code. It took him a moment, but he manged to break through the code.

"Cool." Daniel said, watching his employer break into a computer just by guessing the password. "How do you do that?"  
"I break into the mainframe and view the most commonly used words." Scypris explained. "I then get a long list, and select three words. The password is usually eight letters, so that instantly rules out most words on the list. Then I take a guess on what the most common passwords would be in an old metro. Simple as that."

Daniel nodded, though he didn't actually follow.  
Scypris turned on the emergency power, then let his lips twist into a smile in spite of himself. There was one metro that could take them to New Vegas. Well, it said 'Las Vegas' instead of 'New Vegas', but he figured they were the same thing. He restored all emergency power into the metro and began heading for it.  
/

Pearson tried to find a track. He managed to find several bits of old misfired bullets and tracks that the King had left behind, but the wind has all but blown away these tracks, and moved the bullets, if not buried them even further. Pearson had to dig several random holes in order to find on bullet. But after he found two or three, he could just assume that they were going to keep traveling in on direction. He still occasionally checked to see if they had changed path (it was common to zig-zag when evading gunfire), but the generally stayed on the same path.

Then he saw the manhole.

\

Starlll: Cliffy! Will the next chapter be the inevitable face-off between the hunter and the prey? Will I finish this story before midnight? Who was the man under the boulder? Will I stop asking questions I already know the answer to? Will that joke ever turn old? Find out next time on... Yu-Gi-Oh! ...Oh, right. I haven't started that story yet. And I probably never will.

Scypris: You play Yu-Gi-Oh? _REALLY_?

Starlll: It's a good game. The show may have sucked, but the actual card game is still pretty good.

Daniel: Yeah! Let's Duel! (Pulls out a deck)

Starlll: Okay! (Pulls out a deck) I play Harpies Brother!

Daniel: I play Gierfried the Iron Knight!

Scypris: ...Imbeciles...

Starlll: Yes, but I'm content with it.


	15. Traveling Stories

A/N

Starlll: I really like the breakfast club.  
Scypris: We know. You covered that a few chapters ago.  
Starlll: I did?  
Scypris: Yes. In the disclaimer. Remember?  
Starlll: Not really. I think all this writing is starting to go to my head...  
Daniel: I hate it when that happens!  
Starlll: I know, right!  
Scypris: When you two are done, you mind, I don't know, writing the story?  
Starlll: Fine, fine... pushy little...  
Scypris: WHAT'D YOU SAY? (Pulls out a gun)  
Starlll: Woah! Woah, woah woah. Chill, man. Chill. Chiiiiiiill. Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiill...  
Scypris: (Shoots Starlll)  
Starlll: IT BURNS!

\

Times Starlll has been shot: I lost count and I'm too lazy to check.

/

Disclaimer: Still stands. Because it's not divided. Because a house divided cannot stand! And with God as my witness, I'll never go hungry again!

\

Scypris kept his eyes closed, the only disturbance being the occasional bump or stop at a station. He had rigged the doors so that they had to be forced open, so ghouls or raiders wouldn't see and attack them while they went by, but it Scypris grew slightly paranoid over the years of being a raider. You don't survive as long as he had without constantly checking your back.

"HAAAAA-UGH!" Screamed a ghoul getting ran over by the metro.

Daniel cringed when he felt the tram skip over a bump, knowing that it was the feral ghoul. He decided that he didn't like death anymore. He didn't want to be a mercenary anymore. It wasn't fun, and it wasn't easy. He wasn't even sure how he would get back to DC after this was all over.

Daniel tilted his head back in his chair and spat. Then he caught it in his mouth.

"That's disgusting." Scypris said, opening one eye.

"_Yes. _We run over ghouls and raiders over and over again, yet THAT is disgusting." Daniel said, taking a sarcastic tone to his employer for the first time.

"What, you aren't used to death?" Scypris asked, taking the same sarcastic tone as Daniel.

"What made you think I ever was?" Daniel pointed out, actually asking.

"Talon Company may be absolute rats, but they aren't stupid. That usually goes for the initiates, too. How the hell did you make it into Talon without having to kill anything?"

"Well, I met them, and they told me to give them all of my stuff. I said I would for twenty caps, because I figured I could do a lot with that, and I didn't have much on me. They laughed. I asked if I could join them, and they said that I could if I could keep up."

"As easy as that?" Scypris asked, amazed.

"Well, they sounded kinda' sarcastic when they said it, but pretty much." Daniel said, shrugging.

"Damn." Scypris said, amazed.

"I guess..." Daniel cringed as they ran over another ghoul.

"So, what were you doing before you got caught up with Talon?"

"My parents had just died, so I was attempting to start up my own Caravan business. I figured from there I could dip into my products and make a mercenary group."

Scypris nodded.

"What about you? How did those raiders start targeting you?" Asked Daniel, referring to the lie Scypris had told him.

"I, uh, stole from them. I figured it wouldn't actually be a crime, ya' know, stealing from the criminals." Scypris lied, unprepared for once.

"Oh." Daniel said, expecting a more impressive story. Scypris hesitated, then got an idea.

"That was, of course, AFTER I fought my way through a horde of giant radscorpian with only a 10mm pistol and Chinese Officer's sword, of course." Scypris lied further. This got Daniel's attention. Scypris smiled for the second time that day as he made up a long web of lies involving the war, a Deathclaw nest, and the Enclave.

/

Pearson touched the ground from his Vertibird, which he had stolen from a few dead ex-Enclave soldiers. He aimed for the entrance/exit of the metro which Scypris and his new follower had taken, and pulled out his Sniper Rifle.

He had to go back to his house and look up where the metro ended on his personal terminal, but he managed to find it. Then there was the fact that Vertibirds moved MUCH faster than metros. From his math, Pearson had a good hour or two before his target came running through that door. And when he did, Pearson would be ready.


	16. The End?

A/N

Starlll: The last chapter! Let's just hope that I can persuade my dad to let me stay up long enough to write an epic final battle scene...

Scypris: You know, this may be the last story you ever write about me...

Starlll: You do have a point...

Scypris: So, since this is the last time we ever see each other...

Starlll: Aw hell, one more time for old time's sake!

Scypris: (Pulls out a gun) For the last chapter! (Shoots Starlll)

/

Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout 3, or Fallout: New Vegas, but I'd pass a kidney stone if it meant that I could! ...You know, provided that I could get some way to pass it without the kind of pain that my English teacher described it with...

\

Scypris' metro slowly pulled up to the stopping point.

"Here we are." Scypris said, checking his surroundings before prying open the stuck doors. "New Vegas."

Daniel nodded. Neither would admit it, but they felt a strange bond for each other. I, the writer, suppose that there are just some things you can't go through without being friends. Running from an onslaught of Super Mutants, hiding from their King, and killing a Yao Guai were just a few examples of this.

Slowly, Scypris opened the door to the Outside. To the west cost. It was nighttime, he could tell. He doubted that it was past 10:00, though. He felt some of what we would call jet lag, but he just blamed it on sitting for eight hours.

Scypris walked through the now opened door to New Vegas, Nevada, feeling the same surge of energy that he only felt once in his lifetime before, and it wasn't when he first kissed Reilly. A new adventure, a new journey, new people, new sights, and a whole new LIFE awaited him. This was the beginning of something new.

Then there was the sound of gunfire, and a .308 sniper bullet whizzed by his head, the only reason it missed was because of the night's darkness surrounding him.

"FUCK!" Scypris shouted, diving behind a rock while Daniel got up against a wall, wishing he had SOMETHING that could be used as range, instead of his combat shotgun. He waited until the sniper fired again, then dashed out, hiding behind a rock.

/

Pearson watched while a door slowly opened, and he immediately took out his sniper rifle. He aimed for where his target's head would be in a few seconds. The man identified as Scypris walked through the door, and took a deep breath of fresh air.

"Enjoy breathing while it lasts." Pearson whispered, and pulled on the trigger. In spite of the million-to-one odds, that was the exact moment that his hand has a spasm, casing him to miss narrowly. He let out a quiet swear. Not enough to reveal his position, but loud enough to get out some anger. He didn't notice the second man slip through, though.

\

Scypris drew his hunting rifle, which had been modified in every way that he could think of. He still would have preferred his 10mm, but if he was going up against a sniper who had every advantage, he needed SOMETHING that had some stopping power behind it.

He took off his reflective sunglasses and held them to the light on his pip-boy, using them as a mirror to find the sniper.

BANG!

/

Pearson saw something shiny reflecting a light all around the territory, probably trying to spot him. He laid down on his belly, hiding over the mouth of the cliff. He waited for the light to pass him and raised his rifle.

BANG!

\

Scypris instantly drew his hand back when he felt something cut through the hand he was holding the sunglasses in. He mumbled a swear, looking at his hand, which was now pumping out blood. He ripped off a piece of his undershirt and wrapped it around his wound, planning to treat it later. He squeezed off a shot, aiming for where he saw a flash of gunfire from.

/

Pearson had assumed that it was Scypris' head behind the sunglasses, not a hand. He stayed still for a moment, waiting for a sign that Scypris was dead. Then he heard gunfire, and felt a bullet pierce his shoulder. DAMN. He then raised the sniper rifle. He had a clear shot...

\

Scypris Pulled out his Hunting rifle. He had a clear shot...

/

Daniel shot Pearson with his Combat Shotgun from behind, ruining his aim.

\

Pearson suddenly felt a cold pain in his heart, and fell off the cliff while he pulled the trigger to his gun.

/

Scypris roared in pain, getting shot in the gut by a mis-aimed bullet Pearson accidentally shot while he fell.

\

Daniel felt something grab his ankle, and he suddenly fell down the cliff as well.

/

Pearson grabbed at something, anything. He got Daniel's ankle.

\

/

The next morning:

\

/

A fourth man slowly entered the scene, walking. He checked Pearson's pulse. Dead. He slowly walked over to Daniel. He broke a few bones from the fall, and probably some memory loss, but he was still alive. Unconscious, but alive.

The fourth man walked over to Scypris, who was everything but dead.

"Scypris." He whispered, tipping Scypris' head over.

"Hello, Solo." Scypris whispered weakly. "Have you come to kill me?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Yes." Solo decided.

"Very well. I have accepted my fate." Scypris whispered, looking him in the eye through his sunglasses. "Shoot me."

Solo raised his plasma rifle.

"I should thank you, Scypris. You were my final test. My last teacher. And you taught me something: I failed. If I kill you, it won't have been me who did it. It would be one of them. Or a Yao-Guai. Or a Deathclaw. Or whatever the hell it was that got you into this condition. If I kill you, it will only be finishing the job. Not doing it."

"Then don't shoot me. Leave me to die." Scypris said.

"Only you can free yourself." Solo whispered, crouching over to eye level with Scypris. He put the 10mm into his hand, and put his finger over the trigger, aiming it to Scypris' head for him.

Solo turned around, and Scypris shot himself.

**THE END?**

[Epilogue]


	17. Epilogue

A/N

Before I start the epilogue, I just want to address a review sent here. Said review recommended that Scypris missed with his attempt at suicide. There are two reasons why this wouldn't work, in spite of the fact that Scypris would THRIVE in New Vegas.

He wouldn't miss HIMSELF from point-range. Even though he was mortally wounded, Scypris has good aim. And even then, he'd still be shot in three different places and laying in the middle of a desert, miles away from civilization.

He has to be dead for the following to happen.

/

The Epilogue:

\

Solo knelled over Daniel's body, carefully injecting a stimpack. He drew it out before it drained halfway. Daniel slowly woke up, blinking a few times.

"Careful, there. Woah. Don't rush yourself. Take it easy." Solo helped him sit on a rock. "What's your name? Can you remember your name?"

"Dan... Daniel." Daniel said, rubbing his temples and closing his eyes.

"Good. Do you remember how you got here?"

"I uh... the uh... metro." Daniel said, his memories foggy.

"Now can you remember what you do for a living? Or at least, where you live?"

"I'm a mercen..." Daniel stopped. He saw Pearson's dead body laying on the floor, face down in a puddle of his own blood. He didn't want to be a mercenary anymore. He didn't want to kill. But he didn't want to be a caravan either. What job could let him travel? What job would let him stay safe, but still have adventures? "...I'm a courier." Daniel decided. "A courier. I deliver packages across the wasteland."

"That's nice." Solo said kindly smiling at the young man. "I actually have something I need delivered. Maybe if you do a good job, I can spread word for you." Then he turned Daniel's head to the dead body of Scypris. "Do you know who that raider is?"

"That's... that's... raider?"

"Yes. He's murdered, killed, stolen... you didn't know that?"

Slowly Daniel stared at him. Scypris lied to him. Over and over again. He TRUSTED HIM. He considered him a FRIEND. He lied... he lied...

"Excuse me, Daniel? Do you know him?"

"...No. No, I don't know him."


End file.
